


Destiny is a Strange Thing

by atamascolily



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamascolily/pseuds/atamascolily
Summary: One day in Rivendell, everything young Estel knows of his life--his name, his heritage, his daemon--changes.





	Destiny is a Strange Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Ground rules for this AU: Humans, hobbits, and wizards have daemons; other races do not. 
> 
> I'm very much a novice with Tolkien's languages, but I believe "Sorna" translates as "steadfastness" in Quenya. 
> 
> Aragorn and Sorna chant verses from Tolkien's _Lay of Leithian_ as well as the version that Aragorn sings for Frodo and the hobbits in _The Fellowship of the Ring_. 
> 
> I continue to be inspired by kathkin's amazing [A Few Notes in the Song of Creation (A Lord of the Rings Daemon AU)](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031150).

Twilight was falling as Estel and Sorna strode on the high paths overlooking the valley of Rivendell and the fair house of Elrond far below. No. No, that wasn't right. He was no longer Estel, he was _Aragorn_ now; Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the heir to Isildur, with a great destiny before him--

"Not quite right," Sorna chided at his side. She coiled up at his heels, her fox-shape dissolving into a blur of wings before coalescing as a brighly banded snake around his shoulders. " _Thou_ art sssstill Esssstel. It issss only that thou'rt _alssssso_ more." Her forked tongue tickled his ear. "The one doessss not preclude the other."

"Fair enough," Estel said with a laugh. Excited as he was, drunk on these heady new revelations from Master Elrond, he would deny her nothing, cede any argument. Such a momentous day should not end with pointless quarrels. He reached out to stroke the smooth scales, as she hissed in delight at his touch. "But I'll not let thee deny that a great destiny lies ahead for _both_ of us."

"Of courssse not. But do not expect me to change _my_ name." Sorna shifted again to a ground-skink, to trail down his left arm to his hand--and even as he balled his hand into a fist to support the sudden weight of an eagle, she pushed off and took flight, wheeling overhead in great swoops that matched his own giddiness.

Estel eyed her transformations with interest. They had been few and far between of late, as if the time for her to settle was fast approaching, and it was rare indeed for her to expend so much energy merely to make a point. Truly, she was as wild and stirred by these new tidings as he was, though she did her best to pretend otherwise.

"No, indeed. I think I shall have enough names of my own to make up for any lack on thy part," he called up to her, knowing she would hear him even from such a distance. "And steadfastness will always be a quality that neither of us shall have cause to regret. Truly, the world has much need for it in these dark days. This age now calls for great deeds, and we will do them, my love, together, just like in the stories of old--"

His gaze dropped to the Ring of Barahir on his finger--the fabled ring that Beren had given Luthien so long ago as a token of their eternal love. He'd grown up to Elven minstrels chanting that lay, with such skill they could call the very images of man and maiden to appear before their listeners. It had always been his favorite of the many songs and stories he had learned growing up in Elrond's house.

Only hours ago, Elrond Half-elven had called him to private council, to reveal that Beren was no mere hero, but Estel's direct ancestor--and gifted him with this very ring as a token of his heritage. The two green jewels set in silver gleamed with the fading light of the sun as he raised his hand to his face, unable to conceal his delight in this new treasure.

"Watch where thou goes't or thou'lt trip," Sorna said, stooping low as if to scare up a rabbit, only to turn up sharply at the last possible moment. "Or is thy head not swelled enough yet?"

He answered her with a chant:

" _All there turned_  
_to see the jewels green that burned_  
 _in Beren’s ring. These Gnomes had set_  
 _as eyes of serpents twined that met_  
 _beneath a golden crown of flowers,_  
 _that one upholds and one devours:_  
 _the badge that Finrod made of yore_  
 _and Felagund his son now bore_

"...and now it is my turn," he finished in his normal speaking voice. "Destiny is a strange thing, is it not, love?"

"Hssst," Sorna said, shaking her head, but he could tell she was amused, in spite of herself.

"Now thou sounds like my mother," he teased her, but she only laughed in answer and spun herself in tight loops over her head, a raptor's form of play. The sun dipped behind the peaks at last, and they began the long, slow descent back to Elrond's house together.

She was beautiful as an eagle, he thought, with her dark brown feathers gleaming in the last glimmers of sunlight, her white tail shining as she soared overhead with fluid grace. _To think that she is a part of me--and I her--ah, I am the luckiest man alive, heir to the kings of old or no--_

This very morning, he had been only Estel, Elrond's ward, beloved comrade of the master's sons, Elladan and Elrohir, with no higher thoughts than their next sally forth into the world against orcs. Now, as Sorna had so rightly pointed out, the veil had been pulled from their eyes to reveal hidden depths, transforming their lives forever. He supposed they would both adapt quickly, but for now, it was a heady, frightening thing to have a destiny, and it intoxicated him like wine.

They were ready. They were more than ready, they were eager for new challenges and great deeds. Though Master Elrond had foreseen that the tests would be hard and long, Estel could feel only exhiliration this night, for he was young and strong and all those trials were yet to come. Whatever misgivings Sorna might grumble under her breath could could wait until tomorrow.

"If I am to be King, there must be a Queen to rule by my side, lest our line be lost forever," Estel said aloud, following the eddy and meandered path of his thoughts even as his feet kept to the path. "Dost thou think I shall find a companion in this wide world as fit for me as Luthien was to Beren?"

To his surprise, Sorna did not laugh. "Who can say? Destiny is a strange thing, and not even Master Elrond knows all the twists and turns that it may bring. And yet my heart says only, wait, wait, that not all of the beauty of the Elder Days has passed us by--"

Together, they sang

" _The leaves were long, the grass was green,_  
_The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,_  
 _And in the glade a light was seen_  
 _Of stars in shadow shimmering._  
 _Tinúviel was dancing there_  
 _To music of a pipe unseen,_  
 _And light of stars was in her hair,_  
 _And in her raiment glimmering--_ "

Man and daemon broke off abruptly as they turned the corner into the birch grove on the edge of the settled lands of the valley. Though the sun had vanished behind the mountain and the moon had not yet risen, a soft glow infused the pathway, as if a star itself had taken leave of the heavens to dwell among them, throwing the pale-barked trees into sharp relief against the darkness. Before them stood an Elven-lady dressed in silver and blue as if summoned by their song, her long dark hair flying in the sudden breeze. The gems tucked in her hair and around her brow gleamed with a brilliance that matched her own inner light.

Sorna, coming in for a landing on his fist, fell out of the sky in shock. He reached up instictively to snatch her before she hit the ground, toppling to almost to the ground under the sudden impact of her all-too-material weight, before he caught himself in time by drawing up on one knee. _This is a dream,_ he thought in a daze, even as Sorna, still eagle-shaped, rocked on his fist. _Tinuviel herself has come to life before my eyes. Truly am I blessed above all the men of this earth--_

Even as he looked up, her shining gaze met his. His heart shuddered in his chest, and for a moment, all was frozen, breathless white in her radiance. He realized the same moment as Sorna that this was no dream.

And they knew in the next breath they could not bear it if she left them now.

" _Tinuviel! Tinuviel!_ " he and Sorna cried out as one, both knowing that it could not possibly be Luthien returned, yet unable to stop themselves.

A puzzled frown crossed the lady's serene features for moment, only to vanish like ripples in a still pond as she took a step towards them. "Who are you? And why do you call me by that name?"

In response, Sorna dipped her head and beginning to preen herself. It was such an adolescent, self-conscious gesture, and in that moment, Estel was grateful that the woman before him had no daemon, and might yet be ignorant of the meaning. His witless tongue was dry in his mouth, and it was a challenge for him to summon a coherent answer to her question.

"I took you for Luthien Tinuviel, of whom I was singing just now," he said slowly, attempting to gather his scattered thoughts into some semblance of coherence. "But if you are not her, then perhaps you are her kin, to bear such close resemblance."

"You are not the first to have though so," she agreed. Her voice was low and smooth, water rushing over smooth stones, like and yet unlike the fair waters of Imladris. He could drink from such a spring all his life and never have enough. He could drown there, should she desire it.

She looked more closely at him, as if she, too, were just waking from a dream. "Though perhaps I am more like her than I thought... but who are you?"

"I am Estel," he said, rising to his feet, and offering a polite half-bow. The name of his childhood felt flat and empty on his tongue, but there was no help for it now. He reached out to Sorna to steady himself, grounding his fingers in her smooth feathers and the firm muscles where her wings joined her body. That helped somewhat. "Though I am also known as Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the heir of Isildur and Lord of the Dunedain," he added, as if an aside.

It was the first time he had spoken his new name and titles aloud to anyone but Sorna. None of them sounded any more impressive under the curious gaze of those deep, luminous eyes. To someone as beautiful and wise as she, he was an insect, no matter his honors and titles. No doubt she would scorn him for it.

But there was no mockery in her laughter, only joy, and his spirits lifted even as she answered. "Well, then, indeed we are distant kindred! For my father Elrond is the master of this land, and his brother Elros was the father of the kings of Gondor and the North and your ancestor. Arwen is my name, though I am known also as Undomiel, the Evenstar."

Would the day's surprises never cease? "Lady, I do not doubt you for a moment," he stammered. "Yet how can this be? For my mother and I have dwelled here in Rivendell for nearly a score of years, and your brothers have been my sworn companions for many years. Yet I have never seen you before. Does your father keep you locked up in his study with his other treasures?"

Sorna, her composure restored, shot him an irritable look. He knew what she was thinking, because it was his own thought, too. _Smooth, Estel, real smooth. Now she'll think the Heir of Isildur to be some mannerless cad--_.

He flushed at his own faux pas, but the Lady Arwen only smiled at him. "No, indeed, for I have only returned to my father's house this night, and dwelled with my mother's kin in Lorien for many years. It seems my father and brothers neglected to tell me there was a heir to the heroes of legends dwelling under their roof."

 _A hero of legends. She thinks I'm a hero of legends._. He gripped Sorna's feathers even tighter to keep himself from shamelessly crowing aloud and disgrace himself. Like her brothers, she must be older than him by many centuries, yet he never would have guessed so from her appearance.

"And in truth, your father and brothers have never spoken of you," he said. "So we are even, then."

"Indeed," she agreed, her gaze traveling from his face to Sorna. "And I see you are a master falconer, to have so mighty a creature at your beck and call without jesses or hood."

"Oh..." Estel said, his voice trailing off as he realized she wasn't jesting with him. This was awkward. This was beyond awkward. Most of the Elves in Rivendell knew of his daemon, and scrupulously avoided her to avoid any inadvertent offence. But it was clear from her tone that she didn't recognize what Sorna was--which meant that this might be the first daemon she had ever seen before--

Before he could recover his scattered wits, Sorna spoke directly to Arwen, surprising both of them. "No master of beasts is he, only a master of himself. My name is Sorna, Lady, and we are yours to command should you so chose." She spread her wings and bowed in a rough parody of the human gesture.

Arwen blinked, before she blushed to the roots of her hair and clasped a hand over her mouth. "Oh! Forgive me, I meant no offense--" Her eyes flickered back and forth between Estel and Sorna, as if uncertain where she should directly her apology.

"None taken," Estel said quickly. "Few are the mortals who dare to enter the Golden Wood, and I cannot imagine you would have had much commerce with daemons in far Lorien."

"No, I have seen mortal men and their daemons before, and yet--I did not stop to think--" She hesitated. "Never have I seen a bird so fair and wondrous. May I touch you, Sorna?"

He did not stop to think. Even before he knew what was happening, he was approaching her, holding Sorna out outstretched on his fist, and his daemon did not protest. Arwen reached out a single perfect gleaming hand and held it before the daemon in silent question. Then Sorna sealed the fate of all three of them forever by stepping forward so that Arwen's fingers brushed the top of her breast.

An electric crackle of energy rocked Estel and he swayed on his feet under the impact as Sorna crooned in pleasure. It was all he could do to stay upright.

From the look of wonder and surprise on Arwen's face, he knew she had felt it, too. A spark of-- _something_ \--warm and heavy and comfortable passed from her to him through Sorna; a shock of recognition, of two beings long sundered now reunited once more. As if they'd known each other all their lives, across centuries and ages, yet somehow meeting again as if for the first time--

Arwen withdrew her hand, and the sensation vanished, like a cold rainstorm on a fire, yet the look of wonder remained for a few moments longer as they stared at each other.

"Thank you, Estel, Sorna," she said at last. "In all the years I have lived, you have given me a gift that no one else ever has."

Even as Estel was still summoning his voice, Sorna spoke again, deep and low and calm. "And you, my lady Evenstar, have done the same for us. May we accompany you back to your father's house, or do you prefer to savor the evening skies alone?"

Arwen's lips quirked in a smile. "I came out to see the stars, but it seems fate has other plans in store. Come, let us walk together then, for a time."

This time it was Estel who took her proffered hand with his own, even as Sorna's talons dug into his other fist. He didn't ask his daemon why she stayed where she was, why didn't shift into an owl or a polecat or some other creature with keen night sight. He knew why. They both knew she wasn't going to change anymore. It was as simple as that.

The only time they ever spoke of it was later that evening, alone in their quarters in the House of Elrond, with the moonlight spilling through the windows offering a panoramic view of the valley. In the distance, the white speck of the birch grove gleamed, though the light of the Evenstar had long since left it for the shelter of her own quarters on the far side of Elrond's own compound.

"Thou art content?" Estel asked, knowing he didn't need to, yet on some level needing the reassurance. He stroked her breast gently, in the same places Arwen had touched.

"Yes," Sorna said. "Art thou?"

Destiny. Destiny. Destiny was a strange thing, and today it had come to them in the form of names and a ring and the promise of a sword re-forged and the sweet laughter of a beautiful Elven maiden who had captured them both--

Tomorrow, there would be complications and consequences of this night's meeting. Or perhaps he would wake and discover it all had been a dream.

But there was Sorna, steady and solid, and _real_ on his fist, as content in her own skin as he was in his. Names didn't matter. What mattered was that she was fully herself, most fully _right_. And that was enough.

"Yes," he agreed. "I am."

**Author's Note:**

> Like fellow A03 writer kathkin, Aragorn's daemon settles as a white tailed eagle, _Haliaeetus albicilla_ , because I literally couldn't imagine Sorna in any other form.


End file.
